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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26506060">We Need To Talk</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtn_dew_red/pseuds/mtn_dew_red'>mtn_dew_red</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz (Two River Cast) Actor RPF, Be More Chill - Ned Vizinni</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(?), Alcohol, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bisexual Rich Goranski, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gay Michael Mell, Hurt/Comfort, I wrote 90 percent of this in class, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Rich Goranski Has a Crush on Michael Mell, Soft Rich Goranski, Underage Drinking, im sorry, it hurts me too, rich and michael actually get along, rip 2 michael and jeremy's friendship, takes place at/after the party, the fire never happens, yea they never make up in this</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:28:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,708</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26506060</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtn_dew_red/pseuds/mtn_dew_red</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events in the bathroom, Michael and Jeremy's friendship reaches a formal ending. Hurt and alone, Michael begins a conversation with the one boy he never thought he would get along with-- the school bully, Richard Goranski.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jeremy Heere/Michael Mell, Rich Goranski/Michael Mell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>We Need To Talk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The cold October air nips at Michael’s skin, biting the exposed skin of his forearms and making goosebumps rise on his flesh as a shiver racks through his entire being. The black sweatshirt he’s wearing is doing nothing in the way of his warmth, and the fact that he’s chosen to accompany it with shorts on tonight of all nights is no improvement. He’s got his knees drawn up close to his chest, hugging them close like a lifeline and resting his chin on one of his legs as he stares down the Dillinger’s driveway, out at the occasional passing car as the party just past the door behind him rages on, music loud and attendees louder. </p>
<p>	He hadn’t even been invited to this party in the first place-- in fact, he’d only come for Jeremy, who had decided that tonight of all nights was the night to put an end to he and Michael’s twelve-year friendship. </p>
<p>	Michael has been replaying the conversation in his mind for the past hour or so as the muffled pop music plays from somewhere behind him. He’s been rewinding it and playing it over and over like a VHS tape, analyzing every little detail. Wondering where he possibly went wrong. </p>
<p>	To his right, he can hear the faint chirp of crickets amongst the trimmed decorative hedges, and their quiet droning brings some peace to Michael’s racing mind. He watches their conversation once more. Pause. Rewind. Play.  </p>
<p>	<em> “Get out of my way… loser.” </em></p>
<p>	Michael had never heard Jeremy sound like that. Sounding so utterly angry with him. So bitter. So harsh. It’s so out of place that Michael almost wonders if the boy he’d fought with in the bathroom was even Jeremy at all, or if he was only a shell of what Michael knew him to be. He can’t remember the last time he saw the Jeremy he knew, actually. He can’t even remember when dorky smiles and acne-ridden faces gave way to turned up noses and purposefully ignorant stares. Can’t remember when that dorky chuckle he knew and loved turned into radio silence as the other passed by him in the hallway.  </p>
<p>	He’s startled as the music behind him grows suddenly louder with the front door being opened and shut again, and he twists his body around to see who it is who has come out to join him in his sulking. Low and behold, it’s none other than Rich Goranski, clad in his signature camo cargo pants and a sleeveless tee. He’s got what looks to be a Jason mask pulled on top of his head like a bandana and… is that a loaf of bread?</p>
<p>	As he turns back around to face the driveway once more, Rich is taking place beside him on the concrete steps, huffing out a hot breath that swirls as mist in the cold air in front of the two of them. Michael stiffens, half expecting the other to begin berating him and calling him names, just as he so often does in the hallways at school. Maybe he expects Rich to just flat out hit him… but he doesn’t. He only sits there, staring out at the cars just as Michael was moments prior. Finally, the shorter of the two speaks. </p>
<p>	“Thought you weren’t invited to this whole thing?” He says, but it comes out as more of a question, and while Michael takes note of his sudden lisp, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he’s shaking his head, swallowing down the lump that has formed in his throat and hugging his knees tighter. He can feel his fingertips beginning to grow stiff from the cold. “I wasn’t,” He confirms, pressing his lips into a tight line for a moment before continuing. “I came here looking for someone.”</p>
<p>	Rich seems to pick up on what’s being said, looking over at Michael and tilting his head. “Did you find them?” With a snort, Michael nods. It’s stiff and bitter, though. Annoyed. “Yeah. Along with the end to the only friendship I’ve ever had.” He says, and immediately Rich’s gaze softens. </p>
<p>“Oh.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“...Well, then, why are you still here?”</p>
<p>	It seems as if Michael himself doesn’t quite know how to answer that for a moment, resting his cheek on one of his knees and shaking his head as he stares out at the lamp-light-bathed pavement several yards ahead of him. “I… don’t know. Maybe I’m waiting for him to come out and apologize.” He admits. </p>
<p>	Rich turns his gaze towards his shoes, sighing. “I know how that is.” He empathizes. “Hurts like a motherfucker, doesn’t it?”</p>
<p>	Michael gives a sort of dejected sigh, nodding a few times and looking over to Rich once more. The other looks almost fragile-- folded in on himself and looking strangely shaken. Michael had never seen Rich look so… small. Without his loud confidence and harsh words, Rich finally appeared to be as tall as he truly was. </p>
<p>	“So, where’s your date?” Michael asks. He’d seen Rich hanging around Chloe for most of the party… well, up until he’d hidden himself away in the bathtub upstairs. She was practically glued to his hip from what Michael had witnessed, but now, she was nowhere to be seen. </p>
<p>	“Upstairs, having make-up sex with Jake.” Rich says, bitterly, and Michael can feel his heart sink. “Oh.” He says, brilliantly. “I’m sorry…”</p>
<p>	If high school rumor was anything to go on, Jake and Chloe were in a constant on-again-off-again relationship. The two of them would have their own sexual escapades, sure,  but in the end the two of them always ended up back with each other. It seemed tonight was no exception, because now Rich was alone, and sitting on the porch with Michael. Their own little pity party. </p>
<p>	Rich shrugs, picking at a stray rock on the concrete beneath him. “I should have seen it coming.” He says, shaking his head side to side. “She always comes crawling back to him. At this point, I can’t even say it hurts…”</p>
<p>	He turns to Michael now, giving the other his full attention. He rubs his arms, apparently a little cold, and understandably so. Michael would offer him his hoodie if he’d worn it out tonight. “So what’d he say to you?” He asks, sounding genuinely interested in what Michael has to say. So, Michael speaks. </p>
<p>	“I think he made it pretty clear what he wanted.” He sighs, shaking his head. Somewhere in the distance, a car honks, and the noise of it rustles the dewy grass even here on Jake’s lawn. “The Jeremy-and-Michael saga has come to an abrupt end, after… months of him brushing me off and pretending I don’t exist. All because of that stupid thing.”</p>
<p>	“You mean his SQUIP?” Rich inquires, and Michael nods in confirmation. “Yeah. That.”</p>
<p>	There’s a beat of silence between the two of them, and Rich sighs uncomfortably, it being the only other noise besides the crickets and the muffled pop music playing behind the two of them. For the first time, Michael can smell the alcohol on his breath. It makes him feel  slightly better that Rich had been drinking, too. Maybe that’s why the other was being so friendly to him all of a sudden. Rich speaks up once more. “I suppose that’s partially my fault, isn’t it? The whole SQUIP thing?”</p>
<p>	“Yeah, yeah I suppose it is.” Comes Michael’s reply, and Rich shakes his head, carding a hand through his dirty blonde hair. The red bits sift between his fingers. “Shit, man. I’m sorry… I didn’t think he’d get to be this way, you know?”</p>
<p>	Michael only nods, staring down at the pavement in favor of not looking at Rich. He fears that if he does, he’ll get angry, and being angry right now would help nothing. If anything, it would only be a setback. So instead, he asks: “What about yours? Is it still kicking?”</p>
<p>	“Oh,  I’m totally hammered.” Comes Rich’s reply, and Michael raises an eyebrow, not quite catching on. Rich shifts where he’s sitting. “Alcohol, uh… kind of temporarily fucks it up. It shuts down and all that.” He explains, and Michael tips his head to the side. “Oh. I didn’t know that… so that’s why you’re talking to me then, I guess… right?” </p>
<p>	Rich moves so that one of his knees is drawn up, and his other leg is straight out in front of him. He rests his arm on his leg. “Yeah, I suppose that’s right.” He confirms. “I think if GLaDOS were on right about now, she’d be cussing me out big time. Probably shocking me for misbehaving.” </p>
<p>	That last comment brings an air of concern to Michael’s expression, and worry crosses his face as his eyebrows knit together and meet in the middle of his forehead. “Wait, that thing shocks you?” He asks, voice raised in disbelief, and as Rich nods, Michael looks even more perplexed.  “Yeah. Electricity and everything. Hurts like hell, too. I’ve got a few scars up my spine to show for it.” He says, and the statement would almost sound like bragging if it weren’t for the subject matter. Michael cards a hand through his hair, which has begun to curl just so at the ends from him messing with it. Most days, he put quite a bit of product in it to keep it straight like he liked, but now nearing the end of the day, its hold is starting to wear off. </p>
<p>	“Jesus Christ…” He breathes, and Rich shrugs, almost indifferent. “Yeah, it’s pretty fucked up. I guess I’m just used to it by now. Happens any time I disobey something it’s said. Or when I slouch…”</p>
<p>	“Damn,” Michael says, almost at a loss for words. This was new information. That explains some of the weird, half-hidden yelps he’s seen Jeremy give in class these past few months. That thing has been electrocuting him. Does he have those scars, too? God, he hopes not. Even if he hated the boy’s guts momentarily, he still had the common decency to care for Jeremy’s health. “Damn is right.” Rich parrots, nodding in such a way that a few strands of his red dyed hair fall in front of his forehead. For the first time, Michael vaguely registers that Rich looks quite a bit like a rooster. </p>
<p>	There’s a beat of silence, and then the rest of Rich’s sentence replays in Michael’s mind. He lights up. “Wait a moment, you said GLaDOS earlier.” He notes, and Rich raises an eyebrow, tipping his head to the side. “Yeah, and?”</p>
<p>	“Dude, you know what Portal is?” Michael asks, leaning forward in interest. His brown eyes are sparkling, even in the dim light from the streetlamp several yards away. Rich seems to catch on, shrinking further into himself and looking away. “I’ve just… heard it in passing.” He lies, and Michael is quick to catch on. </p>
<p>	“Holy shit. You’re totally a nerd!” Michael laughs, almost as if in disbelief. He moves strands of dark hair back from his face. Meanwhile, Rich is attempting to shush him, eyes darting around like he’s afraid someone may hear and waving his hands in front of Michael’s face, trying to cup one over his mouth. “Keep it down, will you?” He whisper-shouts, catching the other off guard as he finally manages to clamp a callused hand over Michael’s running mouth. “Jesus, you’d think the entire block could hear you… yes, fine. I cave. I like video games-- so what?”</p>
<p>	He drops his hands back to his sides, and Michael is still smiling, looking at Rich with a newfound understanding. So it seems they might actually have a connection after all. Maybe Rich was more than just a school bully. “What do you mean ‘so what’? Dude, Portal is one of my favorite games. You’re totally a huge nerd under all that muscle, huh?”</p>
<p>	Rich almost looks as if he’s pouting, arms crossing over his chest and lower lip jutted out. He huffs a sigh. “Look. You can’t tell anyone here about that… if it gets around to Jenna that I like something even <em> remotely </em> nerdy--”</p>
<p>	“Yeah, yeah, I know. Social suicide and blah, blah, blah…” Michael says, rolling his eyes and letting up on his teasing. “Don’t worry, Goranski. Your geeky secret is safe with me.”</p>
<p>	The shorter of the two looks over, offering Michael a sort of reserved smile. “...You know, you’re not so bad, Mell. Easy to talk to. I can see why Jeremy liked hanging out with you.” He says. And, the sentence should make Michael feel nice… but it doesn’t. Liked hanging out with him. <em> ‘Liked’ </em>. Past tense. Jeremy didn’t like hanging with him anymore. </p>
<p>	He manages to regain his composure fairly quickly, chuckling lightly. It sounds half-hearted. “Thanks.” Comes his reply. Rich nods vaguely.  </p>
<p>	Once again, there’s silence between the two of them. From somewhere inside, there’s a cheer from a group of their peers. Someone must’ve opened more alcohol, no doubt. Or they’re having a beer pong contest again. Either one. “So, alcohol completely turns it off?” Michael inquires, bringing the subject back up again in vague interest. Really, he’s just trying to keep the air between them from growing cramped and awkward. </p>
<p>	“Yeah,” Rich nods. “Fucks it up big time. Completely glitches out and starts speaking japanese…” </p>
<p>	That elicits a laugh from Michael, which in turn brings a little quirk of a smile to Rich’s lips. It quickly fades. “Though, it comes back on when you’re sober. The only way to shut it up for good is with this discontinued soda from the nineties--”</p>
<p>	“Yeah, I know.” Michael cuts in, nodding. “Mountain Dew Red, right?”</p>
<p>	The surprised look that settles on Rich’s face is worth its weight in gold. Michael would take a picture if he had a camera. Rich blinks a few times in astonishment. “Wait, how do you know that?” He asks. SQUIPs were top-secret untested technology. You couldn’t even find them anywhere on the internet. Michael shrugs, smirking almost cockily. “You have your ways, I have mine.” He says, and that answer seems to satisfy Rich enough. “Fair.” He hums.</p>
<p>	“I’ve got a hookup, actually.” Michael continues, and the raised eyebrow from Rich makes him realize the error in his sentence. “No, not like that. For soda, I mean. I collect vintage shit like that all the time.” He explains, and Rich seems to  light up just slightly. He’s caught the other’s interest.  “He sells me two-litres in the back of Spencer’s Gifts all the time. Last time I went in, he didn’t have any red, but he said he could get me some.”</p>
<p>	Michael leans back, putting all of his weight on his hands as he extends his arms behind himself, propping himself up. Some of the gravel in the pavement digs uncomfortably into his hands, but he doesn’t mind much. “So, the question is… do you want to get rid of that thing for good?”</p>
<p>	The question seems to smack Rich right across the face. All this time of suffering in silence and hurting others for his own benefit… and finally, he had an out. Michael Mell had given him the option to get away from it all. Needless to say, he’s nodding before he can even get a word in. “You… you’d do that for me?”</p>
<p>	The other boy shrugs, the lettering on his black sweatshirt barely visible in the low light. “I was trying to do that for Jere,” He says, sounding slightly dejected. “But there’s been a cancellation in his rescue from the hivemind, so… there’s now an opening. And you sound like you need it more than he does at the moment.”</p>
<p>	Rich is shaking his head in disbelief, smiling so wide that his cheeks must hurt. Michael can see the gap in between his front two teeth. “Oh my God…” He says, running a hand through the red streak in his hair. “It’s finally happening, isn’t it? It’s leaving?”</p>
<p>	“If you say yes.” Michael nods, tilting his head a little as he stares at Rich, and the shorter boy hops up, grabbing Michael by the arm and hauling him up off of the pavement steps with a surprising amount of force given their obvious height difference. He begins trying to yank Michael along, pulling him toward the crowd of cars parked on the other side of the road. “We’ve gotta get going!” He says, sounding absolutely elated. “Oh my God, this… this could be huge, Michael, you’re going to change my <em> life </em>--”</p>
<p>	“Woah, woah, woah…” Michael initerjects, grabbing Rich by the wrist and stopping him in his tracks. “Rich, dude-- Spencer’s is closed. It’s like…” He takes out his phone to check the time, nearly blinding himself with its light and squinting rather pitifully as he looks back to Rich. “One A.M… we could get out of here, though? Go for slushies?..” Michael suggests, and there’s a little smile that quirks up on Rich’s lips at the proposal. A smile that Michael himself has never seen before. Genuine-- not like the fake ones he gives out of cockiness to impress people. It’s real. </p>
<p>	“I’d like that.” He agrees after a beat of silence, and Michael nods his head in the direction of a red PT Cruiser across the way. That must be his car. “C’mon then. We can raid sev’elev' and loiter in the ShopRite parking lot across the way. Y’know, the one that’s all empty and stuff? Premium hangout material.”</p>
<p>	Rich is following after Michael as the other speaks, almost hanging on every word. Now that he’s really talking with the other, Michael isn’t that bad. In fact, he’s pretty pleasant to be around and talk to. He finds himself wondering why he ever even picked on him in the first place… he was pretty sweet. It’s a wonder Jeremy would ever think to abandon him at all. </p>
<p>	Getting in, Michael doesn’t bother buckling up, turning the key in the ignition and giving it a few tries before the car finally comes to life, starting as it finally decides to work. Immediately, some loud punk song begins blaring through the speakers, which Michael scrambles to turn down. “Shit--” He says, turning the knob frantically to a lower volume. “Sorry dude. I like my music loud.”</p>
<p>	Rich just shrugs, buckling himself up and resting his elbow on the door. “I don’t mind, man. Me too.”</p>
<p>	There’s a moment where the car just idles, and silence falls between them, but then Michael turns up the radio just a little (turns out, they’re both big fans of Green Day. Who knew?), and begins driving, and the tension is gone quicker than it had set in. </p>
<p>----</p>
<p>	The ShopRite parking lot is as empty as it always is, with the weeds growing out of cracks in the pavement and the graffiti on the walls of the abandoned building in the center of it. The pair of them are sitting on the hood of Michael’s car, slushies in hand and legs crossed. Michael had opted for his favorite (cherry, of course), and Rich had gone with Green Apple. Of course, Michael gave him shit for this decision, but it was all in good fun.</p>
<p>	<em> “Green apple? Seriously?”</em></p>
<p>
  <em>	“What’s wrong with green apple?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>	“Everything-- are you insane?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>	“Oh, fuck off…” </em>
</p>
<p>	Now, both of them are sipping idly on their sweet drinks, sucking the little bits of ice and syrup through their straws and staring up at the night sky, picking out stars and constellations. Michael points upward, tutting quietly. “That one’s polaris, did you know that?” he asks, pointing to a particularly bright star in the sky. Rich turns his direction to it, raising a confused brow. “I thought that was the North star?” </p>
<p>	“It is,” Michael nods. “It’s just also called Polaris. That’s its formal name, anyway.” He answers, and Rich gives a hum of interest. “I bet you tell that to all the boys you whisk away to Seven Eleven at one in the morning.” He chuckles, looking over at Michael with a sort of complacent grin. The other shakes his head, shrugging. “I just like space. I think it’s interesting.” He divulges. </p>
<p>	“I mean, think about it. In the grand scheme of things… we’re so infinitely small. We don’t even compare to the rest of the universe. It’s so vast that we can’t even say that it has a definite end… it just goes on forever and ever, and there could be anything out there in it, because science hasn’t evolved far enough for us to see very far outside of our own galaxy…”</p>
<p>	Rich is staring at him with a sort of infatuated smile, just allowing Michael to rant. It was sort of cute. He continues: “We’re just on this… this ROCK, floating through space around a big ball of gas. And we’re so, so small…” He shakes his head, almost in disbelief at his own words. Like it still baffles him. After a beat of silence, he chuckles. “Don’t suppose you think about that as often as I do, huh?”</p>
<p>	“No, not nearly.” Rich says, wrapping his lips around his straw and taking a drink of his slushie. His tongue has been colored a neon green from the syrup. “It’s kind of cool to hear you talk about it like this, though. A new perspective, you know?”</p>
<p>	“Yeah. Something like that.” Michael nods. He takes another drink, and then he perks up, like he’s just remembered something. “Oh! I meant to ask you… do you smoke? Weed, I mean. I’ve got some in the car, I think.”</p>
<p>	Rich raises an eyebrow, tipping his head to the side. “You smoke, headphones?” he asks, and now that he thinks about it, Michael’s car had smelled vaguely like the drug… he chalked it up to be the smell of it that had seeped into their clothing at that party, but now that he was putting two and two together, the ashtray he’d vaguely made note of on the dash made much, much more sense. “Uh, yeah.” Michael says, like it was obvious, and to be fair, it kind of was. “All the time, actually. Helps with… anxiety and stuff. Plus I just like the way it feels when I’m high. Everything gets all floaty.”</p>
<p>	Michael talks with his hands, waving them around in the air as if to visualize his words. It makes Rich chuckle softly. Maybe being drunk wasn’t so bad. If it meant getting to hang around someone who was actually cool, he should really consider turning the computer bitch off more often. If this whole soda thing worked out, he certainly wouldn’t have to worry about it for much longer. Michael was genuinely sweet. He talked about the things he liked without restraint, and wasn’t afraid to be himself. He didn’t crave popularity or attention. He was content with himself, and that in itself was vaguely attractive. </p>
<p>	“I could smoke.” Rich settles, nodding, and Michael slips off of the hood of the car, going around to open one of the back doors to the car and ruffling through stuff in the backseat. Rich would be lying if he said he weren’t checking out the boy’s ass just the tiniest bit as he bent over. He quickly averts his gaze once Michael stands up, a handful of rolling papers and a little plastic baggie of weed in his grip. “Jackpot.” He grins, dopily. Rich scoots over, patting the hood of the car and making room so Michael can use the surface to  assist him in rolling a joint. Once he’s done so, he holds it up, pinches it between his fingers and offers it to Rich. </p>
<p>	The shorter boy takes the joint, putting the end with the little filter between his lips, and Michael moves forward, clicking a lighter until it comes to life with flame and evenly lighting the end for him before sitting up on the hood next to Rich. The latter of the two takes a drag, pulling smoke into his lungs and holding it there before breathing it out. It stings, and makes his eyes water, and he coughs into his elbow. Michael chuckles warmly. “Amateur.” He teases, taking the joint from Rich and taking a hit once it’s tucked between his lips. He does it so easily, like he’s done it millions of times before (and to be fair, he probably has), and rolls the joint idly between his fingers as he breathes out. The smoke swirls in the air in front of him in little tendrils which linger and then dissipate, and by god, Rich thinks that watching Michael Mell smoke has got to be the hottest thing he’s ever seen. Something about it is just so damn attractive. </p>
<p>	Clearing his throat, he passes the joint back to Rich. “Y’know,” He begins, sounding thoughtful. “The last time I got high with someone, it was with Jere. We threw on some documentary about the moon landing and… well, by the end of it, I’d flat out convinced myself that the moon wasn’t real.” He says, sending Rich into a coughing fit of laughter. He chuckles himself. “Right? Yeah. Totally thought the moon was fake for a solid few hours. Never again. I’ve stopped watching T.V. when I’m high.”</p>
<p>	“Man, that’s rough.” Rich says, still laughing softly to himself as he passes the smoke back to Michael, who takes it between his fingers before taking another hit. “Can’t say I’ve ever doubted the validity of the moon… but I made out with Jake when we were high once.”</p>
<p>	“No shit, really?” Michael inquires, blowing out a cloud of white smoke and eyebrows raising slightly. “Were you into it?” </p>
<p>	The little shrug that Rich gives seems to be confirmation enough for Michael. “I don’t know,” He admits. “I mean, I know I’m into both guys and girls and whatever but… Jake is Jake. He’s not my type.”</p>
<p>	Michael nods in vague understanding, taking another hit and staring out into the empty parking lot. His fingers are so cold that they’re going stiff, and he can feel his brain going steadily fuzzy with the effects of the weed, but Rich’s presence is so pleasant that he hardly notices. </p>
<p>---</p>
<p>	The pair of them only begin driving home around three, when Michael finds the energy in himself to drive again. The drive home is mostly conversationless, filled with music from Michael’s ipod plugged into the radio and his gentle singing that accompanies it. The windows are down, sending cold October air ruffling through their hair and chilling them to their cores. </p>
<p>	A new song begins, and the pop beat is soft. Gentle, almost. But the lyrics are so deeply personal, and the way that Michael is singing them almost sadly sends a pang of empathy through Rich.</p>
<p>	<em> Your mama likes me and she doesn’t like anyone.<br/>	Your dumb drunk friends don’t care for me, and I always told you so.<br/>	I wish you didn’t tell me I was special,<br/>	‘Cause now it’s far too hard to see through.<br/>	‘Cause you shine brighter than morning, <br/>	At least I thought you did. </em></p>
<p>	Rich can’t help but think of Michael and Jeremy. How close the two of them had been for years up until now. The pair of them always seemed to be almost attached at the hip, and now, apparently they would never talk to one another again. He can see the sadness in Michael’s expression as he sings the words. He must be thinking the same thing. </p>
<p>	<em> I really thought you were my four-leaf clover,<br/>	I know I’m lonely, but I won’t come over.<br/>	I really thought you were my four-leaf clover,<br/>	I really thought that I was lucky.<br/>	Fuck me. </em></p>
<p>	It’s no happy tune, for sure. </p>
<p>	When Michael drops Rich off outside of his house, they say their goodbyes, agreeing to meet up at Spencer’s Gifts in the morning for their soda. That night, Rich goes to bed with a little smile on his face. Finally, he could start over again. Be himself with someone who cares, if Michael would have him. Learn what it was like to have real friends. </p>
<p>	He had a feeling that’s what the both of them needed-- real friends.</p>
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